


That's Why You Always Ask About the Job

by LediShae



Category: The Expendables (Movies), Transformers (Bay Movies)
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-09
Updated: 2013-05-22
Packaged: 2017-12-12 16:44:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/813754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LediShae/pseuds/LediShae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's what Christmas wants to tell Barney this is all over. Providing working with their new partners doesn't kill him first. Meanwhile - Galloway uses NEST to send the wrong mercenaries to to deal with Cybertronians. Unfortunately for Ratchet he's the mech sent to keep the mercenaries alive. Takes place before TF:RotF and after the first Expendables.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"So what's the job?" Ross asked from where he stood, arms crossed over chest in a manner that spoke of military training and too many fights. Barney Ross, the ageless battle leader of their motley crew had not changed aside from his ever evolving tattoos since Tool first met him lifetimes and battlefields ago when they were both young and still stupid enough to believe they could win happiness through war.  
Tool, whether that was his real name or not nobody knew and with his swift hand with his big switchblade, nobody asked. The older man with his silvery streaked shoulder length hair and silver grill on his teeth set down the phone, long stemmed pipe resting gently at his workstation as he looked up to his old friend. "Only one piece of work this week, and it's ugly." He looked from Ross to Christmas, the slightly shorter, slimmer, younger knife thrower with a cockney accent, shaved pate, and charming grin, and back then nodded towards Ross's black Harley, "Ready for a road trip?"

********************************************************

"Dude, he's ugly – even compared to you." Staff Sergeant Epps looked his partner over pointedly from head to toe then glanced meaningfully at the massive, dark Italian dude waltzing into their location.  
"He's our man." Sun tanned and as all-American as any army boy got, Major Lennox sighed not impressed with the aged man who was supposed to be their mercenary contact. "Ready Lander?"  
"Sure thing, Metalhawk. Seriously, the next time you let the kid pick out code names I'm gonna tell Sara you purposefully got called in for service because you forgot your last anniversary." Epps threatened, great cocky grin widening as his commander flinched.  
"Gentlemen," The man's dark eyes filled with bad memories and worse nightmares raked over them, crooked mouth and droopy eyes aside the man looked like fighter, his voice reminding Lennox of his partner back on base. "You've got something for me?"  
"Yes, a high risk operation. A terrorist cell calling themselves the Daitya Hand has become a problem. They need to be removed." 'Metalhawk' spoke evenly not wanting to get involved with this man, and hating involving non-military with the 'bots.  
"How much?" Ross asked looking from the obviously military men. Despite their suits and expensive wing-tip shoes they breathed Army.  
"Six mil," Epps filled in, his usual smile gone in an instant as he took up his role as negotiator. He was used to dealing with multimillion dollar equipment and negotiating for purchases when regular channels didn't produce on time.  
"We'll do it." Ross nodded, holding out his hand for the jump drive his contacts willingly handed over. Without a second glance he turned and strode out returning to his black Harley and the long road home.  
"Don't you want to know what the job is?" Metalhawk asked worriedly.  
"Is it on the drive?" Ross asked in return matching the younger man's steady gaze.  
"Yes, but –" Lander broke off when Ross walked out without a second glance. The man seemed to get larger as he walked away tattoos on his arms rippling over corded muscles.  
"Is it just me or did he kinda remind you of Ironhide, except squishy?" Epps asked with a smirk once the door clanged shut blocking off further images of the man.  
"Yeah, he did." The men smiled and left the empty synagogue returning to the massive topkick waiting just outside.  
"You compared that human to me?" Ironhide demanded brusquely when they got in.  
"It was only skin deep." Lennox replied sending Epps into a fit of giggles.

********************************************************

"I don't like-a this." Yang glared at the screen as images of mixed ethnic rebels passed by.  
"Yang's right," Gunnar, the six foot-six tall man heavily scarred from his exploits towered over the rest of the crew, back from his most recent stay in rehab he was a clean junky but even he could smell the bull laced through the job specs.  
"These photos have been altered," Christmas approached the screen, "Here," He pointed to a drum barrel behind a man, "This is an overlay."  
Ross nodded, with a pensive frown. Beside the man in the image the barrel had been cut to fit his image. The manipulation had been flawless at first until these last few images. "Why give us a file of eighty opps photos then alter the last six?"  
"My therapist believes we all present the world with the face we want to. If this is the face our contacts are presenting then what have they got to hide?" Road asked, his cauliflower shaped ear pointed away from the group, silently speaking that his last therapy session had not gone well and talking was the last thing on his mind.  
"Can we get into this?" Ross asked pointing at the picture, "Can we see what they've done?"  
"Big Barney Ross, still afraid of the computer." Christmas smiled his best shit-eating grin as he opened up the file. He pulled up several windows altering the appearance of the image for a few minutes before looking to the waiting group "I don't think you're going to like this." He looked over his shoulder to the others then put the file on screen.  
Instantly the projection showed strange glyphs and sigils in strange random rows. A garbled, metallic grumbling emitted from the speakers then slowly changed, morphing as the glyphs shifted and fluidly melted into neat lines of English text.  
"This not good." Yang breathed.  
"No shit this ain't good. What the hell is this?" Cesar demanded, the only black man on their team looking worriedly from screen to Ross and back. "Were the guys you got this from even human?"  
Ross shrugged, "They looked human, or at least more human than Trench." Ross's best enemy, Trench Mouser the six-plus West German was a walking muscle man and a jerk. Ross calling the two contacts more human than Trench gave the others some breathing room to their planet of origin, but not much.  
"Cesar, Yang, you're with me. We're scouting the site. Christmas, keep the tracers on, if this gets ugly you'll be pulling our asses out of the fire." Ross spoke evenly, never making his words orders but knowing the commands were understood.  
"Sure, just like always." Christmas replied with a weak grin hoping he would not become the next battle leader too soon.

********************************************************

"Optimus!" Lennox bellowed once they got back on base, running with a copy of the jump drive that had felt like a death trap. "Optimus, I think you need to see this."  
Prime stood from his alt mode swiftly rolling to his full height before kneeling to reach the human's level better. "What is this?"  
"It's a copy of a jump drive Galloway ordered us to distribute to a mercenary crew." Lennox replied. "There's something wrong with the data."  
"The United States Military has not used any mercenary forces since the Civil War, over two hundred years ago. Galloway is up to something but we can't identify what." Epps filled in.  
As the humans relayed their news Ironhide, Sideswipe and Ratchet approached all looking at the innocuous device cradled in Optimus' massive hand. Ratchet extended a specialized flat screen to his commander allowing the jump drive to be plugged into it the device acting as their data pads once had when they still had their own technology.  
"These are all opps photos from southern India." Ironhide drawled, watching the photos pass by until one caught his optic. "Wait, this one's – pathetic."  
Ratchet nodded silently, looking the poor attempt to alter the image. "How could their Opps division allow such trash?"  
"It's not how they allowed it, but why it was done in the first place that worries me." Optimus rumbled softly. "Look into it, and get back to me."  
Ratchet clicked his confirmation and turned from his companions passing the jump drive to an unseen mech cloaked in invisibility, "Get this to intel." The jump drive seemed to vanish in midair. "We need answers fast."

********************************************************

"Mirage?" Prowl asked as the silent spy cast off his camouflage entering the underground base the auxiliary crew had built beneath the humans' compound. Here, isolated deep within the earth and surrounded by noise canceling insulation Prowl led the remaining Autobots Prime refused to reveal to the humans.  
"Data chit." Mirage passed the tiny device to his commander, using the old term for their lost technology forgotten during the long war. "Prime needs answers."  
Prowl nodded and turned to his unit. Jazz, repaired from his near death at Megatron's hands stood nearby, Sunstreaker, Bluestreak, Tracks, Cliffjumper and Trailbreaker stayed close as well. Only Hound and Windcharger remained unaccounted for, the pair having gone on ground reconnaissance to determine the growing humber of Decepticions entering human territories.  
"Jazz, Sunstreaker, analyze this and get back to me." Prowl passed the small drive to his best crew members, frowning when Sunstreaker only shook his head.  
"Last six photos, we placed a message to the humans. Galloway is using mercenaries to face an unknown Cybertronian threat. Sides overheard Galloway planning this but couldn't get to Prime. This was the best we could do." The silver mech shrugged unapologetically. Identical now to his twin Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had developed the new Sideswipe personae they shared rotating assault duties when one or the other needed to recover.  
Prowl stared at Sunstreaker door-wings twitching as he processed this new development. "Show me." As Sunstreaker pulled up the data file containing their message to the humans Prowl remote linked to Optimus paralleling his processors to his commander's allowing Prime to see and hear anything Prowl did.  
Optimus rubbed his helm once Prowl's transmission ended, -:- Prowl, send up Sunstreaker. -:- A brief flicker of static across the secure comm line between Prowl and Prime signaled the tactician's confirmation. With his orders given Optimus took the returned jump drive back to Lennox.  
"Did you find anything?" Lennox asked worriedly, blue eyes holding a far too familiar burden only leadership could bestow.  
"Yes, your government has made a grave mistake." Optimus replied handing back the data chit. "They have hired mercenaries to remove a terrorist threat from India, but these terrorists are not of human origin."  
"Then what are we gonna do?" Epps demanded, brown eyes wide with a sickening mixture of worry and the bitter knowledge that the mercenaries were going to come back in body bags.  
"We," Optimus included those around him, the humans overlooking Sideswipe standing aside with a double shadowing him, "Will not do anything."  
"But Optimus!" Lennox cried not wanting any man, military or not, to be put in harms way because of him.  
"We have our orders, Major," Optimus replied, knowing that soon they would head out to China and the strange signal they had been receiving there. "Lennox, Epps, come with me." Optimus led them through their hangar home, past the end of the firing range and through a rarely used blast door no human had clearance to use.  
"The following conversation never happened," Optimus began, waiting as he knelt for the two humans to give their understanding. "The mechs of my command are not the only Autobots on the Earth. I have two other teams working in anonymity in remote locations. They will protect the mercenaries from whatever threat awaits them." Optimus looked at the pair who gapped at him in shock.  
"But – how did they land without us knowing?" Lennox looked at Epps in trepidation. He trusted all the Autobots with his life, but this – not knowing who was stationed on their planet – scared him.  
"Despite our grand entrances to Sam, we are capable of controlling our speed of descent onto a planet." Optimus smiled, "The crew working with me have all made themselves known to you, to attract the worlds attention and let others remain in hiding. The battles we have fought thus far are not the only battles that have been waged upon your Earth."  
Epps swallowed loudly, "Alright, do you trust them?"  
"Yes," Optimus replied evenly holding Epps' gaze with his own weary optics.  
"Good 'nough," Epps nodded to Lennox, "If you trust them, so do we."

********************************************************

"Why we go a-here if we know this is trap?" Yang asked Ross from where he stood in the low access to the cockpit from the sea plane's hold.  
"Because, it's the best job we've had. That threat of mechanical war drones looked fake, and I couldn't reach Metalhawk and Lander to cancel the job." Ross replied easily, as if ordering a brew at the local dive.  
"Yes, but if we cannot reach the client who is to say they will know we didn't do the job?" Caesar asked from the copilot's chair, his hands safely lying on the arm rests well away from the controls he knew nothing about.  
"We would," Ross replied eyeing his colleagues tiredly, "If we don't do the jobs we take then we won't get anymore. I don't know about you guys, but I won't take the nine-to-five." The other two silently nodded. They were mercenaries, men who had known war too long to handle peace, or those who only had skills in killing and nothing else.  
"Alright, so we go. If this end badly I am getting raise." Yang proclaimed with a roll of his eyes before sitting back in the emergency chair behind Ross's facing the tail of the plane.  
The rest of the flight went swiftly, Ross making leaps across the ocean as they headed to India taking the greater part of the day to reach their first destination. The black sea plane bearing a large decal for Global Wildlife Conservancy pulled into a small harbor near the southern edge of India. Ross jumped out first, greeting a Muslim man with a nod.  
"Can you take care of her for a few days?" Ross asked the man, refusing like always to make introductions.  
"Of course, she will be very safe." The man replied, hurriedly gesturing to several younger men of his village who brought ropes to drag the plane out of sight. As they worked Ross led Caesar and Yang from the rickety pier, across the town and into the edges of the jungle. Here, away from prying eyes they would find their gear.  
"Who set this up? When did anyone have time to set this up?" Caesar asked looking for signs of vehicle and weapons Christmas had promised to have waiting for them here. Up ahead a section of forest opened before them revealing a twin Polaris Rangers one with a red hood, the other in yellow. Behind them sat a large ASAP Medstat vehicle repurposed into a mobile armory.  
The vehicles sat silently in the clearing with bulging battle packs sitting in the front passenger seat of the Rangers while the back of the Medstat had been cleared of the medical equipment it should have carried and now was lined with racks of weapons and bins of ammo and explosives. Ross whistled as he took in their inventory. It was impressive, better gear than they were used to carrying yet each of their favorite weapons rested at the ready.  
"How do Christmas get a-this so soon?" Yang looked to Ross, not moving towards the vehicles sitting so innocently in the clearing yet bristling with the weapons they dared not bring.  
"I don't know." Ross replied wondering how his second managed to get new vehicles to them in the span of a day, "But we move now." The three each took a vehicle and moved through the dense jungles driving as fast as they dared in the bright morning sun toward the terrorists' location.

********************************************************

-:- Humph, these humans. -:- Ratchet snorted taking control of his steering from Ross who slowly slumped into a doze behind the wheel. He scanned the silent pair behind him noting the tenseness in Sunstreaker's uncomfortable frame.  
-:- This human is sweating on my seat. -:- Sunstreaker snarled in disgust while he silently remained a prisoner within his own alt mode.  
-:- Deal with it Sunshine, the shrimp isn't much better. Would this guy even pass standards? -:- Sideswipe asked absently of Yang's small stature.  
-:- He's five-six and more than tall enough for military duty. He's just surrounded by organic behemoths. -:- Ratchet murmured absently driving the sleeping Ross to their designated camp site. Once there Ratchet shook his frame hard enough to wake the man as he crossed a rougher patch of ground.  
Ross blinked slowly, eyes becoming huge as he found himself miles from where he last remembered being as the Medstat slowed to a halt. Looking around worriedly Ross found both feet on the floor, his hands lying lax at his sides. "What the Hell?"  
"I'm a-tired." Yang yawned hugely as he pulled the waiting pack from the back of his red Ranger and moved to set up a sleeping roll on the muggy ground. Ross just sat in the Medstat cab waiting for reality to sink in. He had somehow driven over ninety miles across ridiculously rough terrain and reached their designated site while asleep. It was impossible.  
Caesar knew something was wrong. Barney Ross was a silent man of action, not someone prone to sitting on the job. He pulled his body from the sticky seat sharing a shudder at the feeling with the silent yellow Ranger he had driven all day and into the last verges of twilight. He moved to the white and red Medstat sitting silently in the rocky clearing until he reached Ross and felt his spine tingle at the shorter man's bewildered expression.  
"You okay?"  
"No," Ross finally levered himself from the cab pulling the pack from the seat beside him, "I slept from midmorning to now. I have no damn memory of driving this thing!" He hissed in a whisper trying to keep his problems from Yang. The shortest man on their team seemed to always make others problems a pissing match with his own.  
"Then how'd we get here without you dying?" Caesar asked levelly, shaking his head. "Man, you went autopilot. We get tired, know where we need to go and get there without registering it. We're human, this shit happens."  
Ross could only shrug as he set up his bed roll knowing that a real sleep on the horizontal would make this all go away.  
"Thank Primus!" Sunstreaker sighed when the humans finally curled up to sleep as he slowly transformed from the unfamiliar alt mode. His subspace compartments disgorged the majority of his mass turning from the less than six foot long Ranger Crew ATV into his original root mode towering over the sleeping humans stinking of stale sweat.  
"Get down you slagging idiot!" Ratchet hissed unwilling to give up his alt mode in case the humans awoke. "We go by Prime's orders and we do not reveal ourselves unless they get in over their heads!"  
"So being thousand of miles from their home, in the middle of a jungle teeming with poisonous, disease carrying plants and animals and heading towards an unknown number of pretenders insinuated within a human terrorist cell means they're just fine and dandy?" Sideswipe asked with a smirk as he stood beside his brother.  
"No! It – slaggit!" Ratchet swore at the pair's slag-eating grins as they bumped fists.  
"What the Hell?" Ross jumped to his feet looking up in terror at the mostly black red and yellow highlighted robots that stood where the twin Rangers had once been parked.  
"Dammit," Ratchet roared twisting unfolding his frame from his alt mode to stand slightly taller than the twins scowling at them from across the encampment. "What slagging part of not revealing ourselves do you not comprehend?"  
"But, Ratchet," Sideswipe piped up with bright innocence shinning in his optics as he spread his hands wide, "As our commanding officer we have to follow your example."  
"You sorry, glitch-faced, blown-mother processor, pit-spawned unrepentant hellion! I'm using you for target practice and then giving you to Hide."  
"Uh, Barney?" Caesar looked to the dark Italian staring mutely at the bickering robots, "I think we found out why you're not dead."  
"Why him be dead?" Yang asked absently trying to wrap his mind around vehicles becoming robots that bickered.  
"I fell asleep behind the wheel," They scrambled from their standing positions as the tallest robot strode over their camp neatly stepping across the arranged sleeping bags before slamming the two smaller mechs' helms together with a resounding clang.  
"I told you two to keep down, and you transformed first!"  
"Very mature Ratch," Sunstreaker grinned slyly making Ratchet gape like a landed fish as he processed what he just said.  
"I – I – why couldn't I have gone to China?" Ratchet sighed pinching the bridge of his nasal processors in despair.  
"Okay, uh, hello?" Barney stepped towards the robots waving his hands to call of the bickering. "What the hell is going on?"  
Ratchet sighed and rolled his shoulder while the smaller mechs snickered. With a glare he slammed the flats of his hands against the black helms shutting the pair up before turning to the humans. "We are Autobots from the planet Cybertron many millions of miles from Earth. We have been embroiled in a planet-wide civil war for longer than your race has existed ..."  
::Wake me up when he's finished. :: Sunstreaker faked a yawn behind his hand, ignoring the humans who stared fixedly at Ratchet while the medic explained in the 'approved manner' the reason organics were faced with advanced Mechanoids.  
:: Be nice, at least we didn't have to listen to Sam babbling when Prime did the introductions. :: Sideswipe snickered replaying captured footage from Jazz of the kid's 'spaz attack', especially after Ratchet mentioned pheromones and mating.  
Sunstreaker snickered, silently wishing he had been there. These men were no fun. They kept asking the same questions the military asked and slung the same bull-shit accusations each new politician slung around when learning that they were not the most advanced race in the universe.  
"So you guys planted the false images and dialogue onto the thumb drive to warn us off from taking this job. Why?" Ross asked suspiciously not trusting these giant aliens any more than he trusted Metalhawk and Lander.  
"Because!" Ratchet cried in distress, "Your team does not have the training to face these creatures and if they are the bots we believe then you are in extreme danger."  
Sideswipe sighed rolling forward to place a hand on Ratchet's shoulder, "You're talking to them like you'd talk to Prime. Won't work." He squeezed the medic's shoulder firmly allowing Ratchet to relax despite his agitation. "Have you guys ever faced anything that can move faster than a bullet, was stronger than your toughest vehicle, immune to explosions and most munitions?"  
"Yeah," Yang stepped up defiantly, hating that once more he was the absolute shortest of the strange group, "It's called a tank. Anti-tank missiles and armor piercing rounds can take the tank down." He looked over the robots forcing his speech to be flawless despite his usual habit of sounding like a half-educated foreigner.  
"Well," Sunstreaker rolled forward, "Then you're going after tanks the size of humans with BBs and twenty-twos. Your munitions will not take out a Cybertronian."  
"Technically," Ratchet sighed, "They can." He pulled several weapons from compartments in his legs than had once been the rear armory of his alt mode. "Each of these have been augmented to fire sabot-tipped rounds. The explosive tipped auto-shotgun and double barrel were augmented similarly." Ratchet passed around the weapons and looked away knowing that this time he was the transport for the means of destruction. Having so many weapons inside him made him sick.  
"So why stop us? Why act like our vehicles? Why any of this?" Ross spread his arms wide encompassing their camp and the jungle.  
"Because we hold that life is the right of all sentient beings, and it was your government that requested this mission for you from incorrectly interpreting data from our kind." Ratchet spoke tiredly, optics dim as the reality that he would not be able to talk these men down sank in.  
"Then I'll need the rest of my team." Ross replied, eyes heavy from jet lag and flying for too long.  
"Already handled," Sideswipe chirruped, playing a segment of a falsified phone conversation he had made with Christmas through his speakers.  
"We found guys on the inside, its legit. Get Tool to secure a flight meet us at these coordinates?" A perfect imitation of Barney's voice sounded from the red robot.  
"You sure, mate?" Christmas' voice replied sounding concerned.  
"Positive."  
Ross hung his head, pinching the bridge of his nose, "You told him this was a trap, and to come in guns blazing."  
"No we didn't!" Sideswipe exclaimed, "I copied your voice perfectly!"  
"Yes, you did," Yang broke in shaking his head exasperatedly, "Christmas never says 'mate'."  
Ratchet smacked Sideswipe up the back of the helm making the warrior yelp, "That's why Jazz keeps you off spec opps! It's not just the voice you slagging moron they have codes just like we do."  
"But, Ratchet, they're organics! They –" Sunstreaker shut up at Ratchet's intimidating glower.  
"Use your miniscule processors! Lennox uses codes every slagging operation."  
"Operation? Do you guys work for the government?" Caesar asked bewildered.  
"No," Ratchet sighed folding down into his alt mode tiredly, "We work with a top secret branch of your military to fight off our enemies. For now, we are political refugees. Now go back to sleep – all of you." He directed his words at Sunstreaker and Sideswipe before settling on his shocks as if taking his own advice.  
"Huh," Caesar looked to the three innocuous looking vehicles, "'Do androids dream of electric sheep?'"

********************************************************  
A/N: The vehicles Ratchet and the terror twins take on as alt modes are real models from Polaris India. Just take out the spaces in the links below.  
ASAP MedStat - www.polarisind.in/product/asap-medstat  
Ranger Crew - www.polarisind.in/product/ranger-crew-800-eps-0  
Enjoy!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Unfortunately I don't own any of the characters, such is life. Crossover between movie-verse Transformers just before Return of the Fallen and just after Expendables I. I know the timeline don't jive, but bear with me.

"Tell me you're joking." Toll Road worriedly arched his eyebrows at Christmas before slowly looking at the agonizing catastrophe taking up the dilapidated hangar.

"Nope." The smaller man replied in a deadpan, arms crossed as both men simultaneously heaved massive sighs of exasperation. "Next time Barney says he's getting a new plane –"

"We make sure it's a new plane." Road shook his head, "Where's Lurch?" The loud commotion of guns and supplies dropping to the ground making him smile without turning.

"You rang?" Christmas stage whispered, making Road snigger, and 'Lurch' growl.

"We're flying in that?" Gunnar asked as he skulked, shoulders shifting restlessly like a caged bear on the prowl, around the archaic craft. Blue eyes dragging over the hull intensely, then shrugged and a nodded appreciatively, "Nice ride."

"Tell me he's joking." Christmas sighed, the bridge of his nose pinched lightly to ward off the Gunnar-induced headache.

"He's not." Road dead panned, and both turned to the massive plane. Painted gray with Barney's signature poor excuse for a sense of humor embossed across the front with an image of the Easter bunny road killed on the nose cone, easter eggs flying in all directions down the sides. The plane was ugly – just like Gunnar.

"Great." Christmas sighed, one last time before moving into the cockpit and going over the preflight checklist while the others stowed the gear. "A fourteen hour flight, and I haven't even had my coffee yet."

************************************************

Ratchet booted up slowly, letting the previous day's discussion with the mercenaries replay in his processors. He had let the Terror Twins bait him into revealing who they were, and jeopardized their mission. Once more he found himself missing a time long gone, when he had stood in the Senate of Cybertron, debating the actions of their race, and negotiating for peace in the brief time before the war when hope still lived.

"What's up?" The humans, Barney Ross, asked. Ratchet activated his optic sensors, looking at the leader of the mercenary crew, who bore a similar weary remorse in his eyes as Optimus carried in his optics. Crouched over a small, smouldering fire, the man held a worn metal cup cradled in his hands.

"Just remembering another life." Ratchet exvented softly, scenting the humid air filled with woodsmoke, coffee, stale human sweat and old forest growth. He turned his sensors to the unusually quiet twins behind him with worry until he realized who they were speaking to, headlightly comically blinking with each word to let the humans know who was talking. Sideswipe was behaving like a sparkling, rocking on his shocks with laughter as he finished a joike that had the other humans cackling.

"So you're the heavy hitter?" Caesar asked, looking the Polaris off-road ambulance over critically, and flinching as a gale of laughter erupted from the two, much smaller, ATVs.

"No, he's our medic. We're the fighters, but don't underestimate him." The red highlighted vehicle – Sideswipe – warned with a dangerous grin.

"I'll keep that in mind." Caesar replied, ignoring the deeper philosophical conversation Ross and Ratchet were having by the campfire. With the sun barely rising the strange group swiftly stirred and moved out, leaving little trace they had ever been.

************************************************

Christmas paced the small powerboat restlessly, eyeing the approaching jungle on the Indian coast. Barney had sent them news of trouble, now, Gunnar, Road, and he were going to rescue the others. "I knew I should have gone with him." Christmas sighed.

"He always goes alone." Road smiled, blue eyes twinkling in the near-manic light they all shared when going on a job.

"And, you're enjoying this." Christmas replied with an equally manic grin. Despite their misgivings there was nothing as exhilarating as being on a job.

"Of course!" Gunnar grinned widely, which was made disturbing due to the scars lacing his worn features. "It does kind of pay him back for shooting me last time." He tapped his shoulder with his first and second fingers directly over the scar he bore from Barney's lucky shot.

Christmas shook his head, "Which he did to keep you from killing Yang, and you did try to hang that pirate."

"But, it's good to hang pirates." Gunnar emphasized, nearly electric blue eyes staring the others down challengingly over his off kilter grin, reminding them of how dangerous the tallest of their crew really was, especially without Barney around to hold his leash.

"Brother, we settled this. We don't work that way." Road shook his head, still grinning at their banter. Gunnar seemed to have lost his mind in whatever he had been using before their Somalia job the year before. Now clean, fully healed and back at the top of his game Gunnar was once more the not-so-gentle giant of their group and it was good to have him back, sociopathy and all.

"Yeah, I know, Yang 'would have win'." Gunnar smiled, laughing at the spats he and the shortest member of their group got into as he seemed to shift to a temporary, nicer personae.

"We're here," Christmas looked to the shore, nodding for Gunnar and Road to jump out and pull the boat to land while he prepped their gear. Once their boat was fully secured Christmas jumped onto dry land hauling the majority of their gear with him while the taller pair dismantled the inflatable boat returning it to a small pack Gunnar added to the rest of his gear.

"Come on, Ross's getting his ass kicked again without us to save him." Road grinned, as he slung his pack on and jog marched through the jungle with the others behind him heading to the coordinates Ross had left Christmas. It was grueling, hot and humid as they moved. Insects swarmed in curtains blocking their paths and leaving the men riddled with small red pocks from the many bites and stings. Sweat rolling from their bodies in massive drops, they trudged on.

"I thought I smelled the holidays." Ross' voice echoed from the next clearing, the dark Italian man stood next to the small stream ahead, bathed in the streaming sunlight and backed by three sets of headlights glowing dimly in the day's early brilliance.

"Very funny, mate," Christmas challenged, halting far enough away he could loose his throwing knives before Barney could grab his favorite pistol.

"I thought it was." Barney smirked, eyebrows arched sardonically at the long worn joke that never ceased.

"Then what was that about?" the Brit finally approached letting his eyes track the three vehicles and Caesar and Yang still seated within the two smaller ATVs – Christmas blinked when it looked as if Caesar was jostled by his stationary car.

"You know those situations where words just won't cut it?" Barney asked, eyes bright with a joke only he understood, but Yang and Caesar grinned widely with him as they swiftly jogged from their vehicles. "You won't believe this."

"Believe wha – Holy Shit!" Road shrieked, falling to take a knee and aim his rifle at the morphing vehicles in unison with Christmas and Gunnar. Each tracked the growing height of the three vehicles and barley glanced at their companions who merely stood easily watching the awe inspiring transformations.

"Do all squishies react this way?" The yellow and black robot asked disdainfully, seeming to stretch now freed from the small ATV he had been folded down into.

"No, some scream like little girls." The red one replied with what looked disturbingly like a grin.

"I will reformat you two into a Gremlin and a Vega if you don't shut up." The tallest of the three glared at the other two.

"But aren't these frames cruel enough?" The red one whined, "We top out at thirty-five!"

"Yes, because you slagging glitches would tear out your under carriages and suspension if I didn't restrict your accelerators."

"Spoilsport." The yellow robot glowered before looking back down to the humans, now standing open mouth and dumbstruck at seeing towering robots bicker like children.

"What the hell is this?" Christmas demanded of Ross looking at their leader incredulously.

"They," Ross began, "Are Autobots. That's Sunstreaker, Sideswipe and their CO, Ratchet." The smaller pair snickered at their introductions while Ratchet huffed at his companions' antics.

"What's so funny?" Road asked, looking from the shorter so-called 'soldiers' to Ratchet.

"From CMO to CO, does that come with a pay grade?" Sideswipe snickered.

"CMO?" Road gaped, "Robots have doctors?"

"We are cybertronians, not robots!" Ratchet seethed, taking a knee as he leaned in optic to eye as he railed at the human. "Hmm, cauliflower ear. Human medicine is so barbaric." Ratchet scoffed, rising and turning from Road before he could speak. Self conscious, Road fingered the thick, constricted cartilage of his ear. He had developed an avoidant personality disorder from years of suffering mockery for his ear earned in his wrestling years in college, and yet this robot had just dismissed it, as if it was nothing. Somehow, he felt lessened, unsettled.

"Yeah, cauliflower ear." Road murmured looking to his brothers-in-arms, especially Caesar and Christmas getting silent support from the burning uncertainty that shown from their eyes.

Ross turned from Christmas, having updated the Brit on Sideswipe's deception. "So that's it? Robo-Red here copied your voice?"

"Robo-Red?" Sideswipe asked, optics glowing with a manic excitement while Ratchet and Sunstreaker face palmed in unison.

"That about sums it up." Ross frowned and nodded. "What's up with them?" His thumb pointing to the two robots currently – pinching the bridges of their noses in a very human gesture of disbelief.

"He likes the nickname." Ratchet groused as h turned, expressive face and flaring – nostrils? – Road could only stare – as the red and white robot doctor smelled the air. "Humans are approaching we must move." Together the Cybertronians folded down, the men clamoring into Ratchet's large back cargo area. As they rattled off they left only faint tire treads in the moist loam.

************************************************

Some trips take longer than others. Some take a lifetime. Six men sitting in the back of a sentient vehicle dozing on the last six hour leg of their journey to the camp of the Daitya Hand – that was a infinite journey into the psyche. To know that they were within the body of a living thing, a healer housing weapons and fighters, leading soldiers into battle, it was awe inspiring and humbling. Not to mention a total mind trip.

"Whatever it is, you're thinking too hard Road." Barney Ross looked to the paler man, watching as their philosopher of sorts pulled his mind from his musings, brown eyes losing their distance.

"This is something I wish I could share with my analyst." Road grinned, eyes dancing like a child's – like their's all were.

"Yeah, I can hear it now. I rode inside a Cybertronian medic heading to our latest work site. Where we killed a bunch of Cybertronian hob goblins disguised as humans. I can see that working real well." Christmas smirked.

Road smirked, "Yeah, I thought it sounded good too."

"Do all of your kind make jokes before battle?" Ratchet asked almost softly, startling the men who looked for the source of his voice until they spotted speakers in the ceiling.

"They're fighter's Ratch, it's what we do." Sideswipe replied gently over the speakers. "It's the same reason you go silent. We face death, someday it'll kill us all, let them have their fun."

"Now you know why Prime puts up with the little idiots break dancing before each battle." Sunstreaker filled in sardonically.

"Uh, guys, if you're going to include us can we at least know who you're talking about?" Caesar asked out loud feeling idiotic for speaking to what currently looked like the insides of an armored ambulance.

"The idiots are a pair of twins called Mudflap and Skids. They," Ratchet sighed heavily, "Are young."

"More like stupid, but they make good cannon fodder." Sunstreaker sneered over the line. The men could almost see the nearly aristocratic face twisted into an expression of disdain.

"That too," Ratchet confirmed, "Prime, is our leader. Optimus Prime, he is currently leading a team in China. I hope you never hear of it though your media."

Caesar nodded, looking at Road and Yang, they all could imagine the hysteria that would result from walking giant robots suddenly appearing in one of the largest countries in the world. The various governments would be pointing missiles at each other while slamming every technological advance the others had made in the last sixty years.

"So do we." Christmas frowned, "But if you showed up in Japan no one would notice."

Yang smiled, "They have the giant robots everywhere. On buildings, in stores, your kind would go unnoticed."

"Hey, how come I can understand him? Normally he has that accent going." Sideswipe piped up curiously, blissfully ignorant of the hard expressions pointing in the direction his vehicle mode was currently in front them.

"Sideswipe," Ratchet growled, "White or wheat?"

"Uh, neither? I'm kinda on a low carb diet." The red bot's voice piped up nervously.

"You can't convert him into a toaster, Ratch. We need to return him to Prime." Sunstreaker sighed unhappily, "Maybe you could hold it off until Tracks gets off his next rotation with Prowl."

"Perhaps," Ratchet agreed, "Keep your vocal processors mute Sideswipe."

Barney looked to the others in the back with him and shook his head disbelievingly. "You can do that? Make him into a toaster?"

"Affirmative, and only marginally larger than what a human would use." Ratchet rumbled in the first dangerous tone they had ever heard from the mech.

"We're here," Sideswipe and Sunstreaker intoned in unison their voices harmonizing disturbingly. The men shouldered their weapons and slipped out of Ratchet's back, slightly surprised when the robots failed to transform.

"You guys okay?" Ross asked next to Ratchet's hood.

"We have to stay in alt mode until your recon is complete. Our root modes radiate more energy than our alt modes." Ratchet confirmed though the humans' ear pieces, keeping his vocal processors mute.

"Okay," Barney replied eyes wide and shook his head. Looking at Christmas he noticed his expression mirrored on the others' faces and only then realized Ratchet had spoken through their short wave radios, somehow hacking their frequencies. "That's comforting."

"That's a statement." Christmas scoffed as they jog marched through the jungle, over the last six hundred yards until they could spy on the encampment. "It looks like they have a thousand men!" Christmas scowled angrily at Ross.

"I didn't know!" Barney protested then summoned his guys together. The schematics of the camp they had been given were accurate, the fuel dumps, ammunition stores and supply stashes were where they had been told. The number of enemies was off, by a factor of ten. "Is the mission still a go?" He asked the others needing their feedback before they began.

"Yes, I need the-a money" Yang confirmed.

"Because you're smaller, right?" Ross smirked at the joke while the others gave their confirmations.

"Alright, let's do this." Ross nodded towards the night dark camp then activated his radio. "Ratchet, guide us around these 'pretender' things of yours. We'll rig the fuel dumps and ammo stashes to blow, then mop up the humans. When it blows you three take out your guys, alright?"

"Yes, for the millionth time," Sunstreaker groused, "Just finish your portion of the job."

"Someone doesn't play well with others," Road smirked at Caesar, earning that giant grin the black man was capable of. Finally focused the men jogged towards their destinations plating explosives and mortars a regular intervals, infiltrating the camp while the Autobots outside the camp perimeter moved into position slowly allowing their radiation frequencies to increase in strength to lure out the pretenders.

"Engaging the enemy," Ratchet radioed just as Ross regrouped on the opposite side of the camp with the others.

"Blow it." Ross nodded to Caesar, bracing himself as the camp was ripped by the initial bombardment from their remote detonations, then as all the fuel dumps exploded in response. Within the camp, men screamed and strange creatures boiled from the darkness. Metallic, with shimmering optics colored cobalt and crimson the figures seemed to writhe. Ross squinted into the darkness, watching the figures materialize and vanish as they passed by pockets of fire.

"This doesn't look good," Toll Road murmured as they all readied for battle, weapons raised and aimed at the encroaching figures.

Ratchet settled on his shocks opening his communications lines to all frequencies and sending out the Autobot distress signal. Not all pretenders worked for the 'Cons, if they could find friendlies they had to do it now. Beside him Sunstreaker and Sideswipe tensed, their alt modes radiating carefully leashed excitement as they readied for the fight.

Out of the darkness several small figures appeared, cable-like tentacles writhing from their shoulders and heads. Hands raised, the figures signaled their surrender. "Over there," Ratchet sent coordinates, waiting until the pretenders stood in a separate clearing behind their position before broadcasting a short wave medical override, sending them all into stasis lock. If any others were out there, only Primus could save them now.

"Roll out." Ratchet intoned, feeling the absence of their leader when his voice barked out, but did not ring. There was no sensation of feeling the will of Primus pull at his spark, or the loyalty he held for their Prime. Instead it was just the voice of one old Autobot sounding small in the darkness.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe exploded from their alt modes, wheeled peds propelling them into the shadowed fray. Wickedly long swords extended from their wrists in unison, the pair using them to slice attacking pretenders in half. Their movements flowing like a dance each move accented with the graceless thuds of terminated pretenders falling into heaps of dark grey scrap.

Behind them Ratchet rolled to his feet, surgical saw whirring to life counterpointed with the hum of a blaster, his heavy steps making the earth tremble under his weight. Kind optics darkened, hands made for healing turned to dealing death. He swung his saw, splitting two approaching pretenders in half while his blaster shot down three more.

Sunstreaker kept his sensors on Ratchet as he pushed forward into a solid wall of pretenders, their tentacles and plating interconnecting them in the process of forming a larger gestalt. Thirty pretenders fused together, their combining halted with Sunstreaker's swords slicing cleanly through the entire wall, followed by several blasts from Sideswipe's shoulder mounted auto cannon.

Together the brothers decimated the horde, leaving the stragglers to Ratchet. Behind the the warrior medic was lethally silent, the only noises coming from his saw and blaster, with the occasional curse at the small, human sized cybertronians attempting to rip him apart.

************************************************

The Daitya Hand fell swiftly, Ross was grateful for that. He looked the field over, then turned to the firefight echoing across the small valley. With a silent signal he moved his men out, jogging in silence from the battle ground where humans had faced off to the awe inspiring sight of Ratchet, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe battling a horde of smaller cybertronians that moved like a tide.

"They can do that?" Caesar asked incredulously, eyes wide and white in the darkness. Dozens of pretenders piled together, their figures shifting and reforming into a massive machine towering over Ratchet with enormous, red glowing cannons whirring into life.

"Apparently," Yang replied, swallowing his fear.

"Looks like they're having fun," Gunnar grinned widely, hefting a massive gun, "They should learn to share." Bright, unstable blue eyes met those of the others, earning shared manic grins from the rest of the team, each of the humans moving to take up positions flanking the action.

Human eyes, all aged and jaded watched, taking in the battle. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, each maybe a third of Ratchet's size and mass moved with grace and agility. The unfathomable 'twins' slaughtering their smaller opponents with ease as they danced a fluid perimeter around Ratchet.

The taller bot stood his ground, optics fierce and dark as he decimated the few remaining pretenders that slipped past his guardians. The humans waited, bodies loose, yet tense. Fingers steady on expertly machined triggers waiting, each holding until – there! A cluster of Pretenders stood alone, their small frames writhing in geometric contortions as they attempted to fuse into something different, bigger, more deadly.

"Now!" Ross bellowed, in one the humans opened fire, sending high heat sabot rounds into the metallic mass, turning the many forms into a writhing, burning, red hot mass to slowly melt into the jungle floor.

"Whoa! Get back!" Caesar roared as burning metal ignited the dense underbrush, turning the land into a bonfire. Ratchet and the twins stood their ground, flames encroaching their position as they battled the dwindling pretenders. Ross spun and fled, leading his men away. Caesar and Road raced north, into the wind. Their legs pumping as they ran. Yang and Gunnar peeled off slightly to the east, heading for the coast and, hopefully, a safe route from the raging fires.

"Fuck me," Christmas cursed in Barney's wake, pulling up sharply as a massive tree fell in his path and ignited, making a solid barrier of tree and flame. He spun in all directions, seeking a path out. At each turn there was only the wall of fire and the battling shadows beyond.

"Is everyone alright!" Ross bellowed as he finally halted, left leg limping as he battled his burning lungs just to breathe. The others fared little better, all of them spent and exhausted.

"Where is-a Christmas?" Yang demanded.

Ross only shook his head. There was nothing to say. Each man fell silent. Gunnar working to set up their inflatable speed boat as the others checked ammunition rounds and injuries.

"We need younger legs." Gunnar finally broke the silence as they launched their craft into the wide, lazy river.

"I know." Ross agreed with a sigh. "Why the youngest, every time?"

************************************************

Early dawn, false light brightening the horizon long before the sun could rise welcomed the smoking ruin of the battlefield. Ratchet knelt, frame steaming in the early morning humidity. Beside him, standing like sentinels barely rising above his shoulders were Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, the pair riddled with silvery fresh welds from their repairs.

"You look like slag." A lilting voice hollered down from the sky, jet engines roaring in from the distance as one jet and a massive transport landed in the smoldering clearing. Above them three more planes circled, one dipping and looping, occasionally getting too close to the other two, nearly colliding mid air only to veer off at the last moment.

"I feel worse, Silverbolt. Skydive, how are you doing?"

"I'm good, Ratchet. So is my team – Fireflight! Stay in formation! Just like always." Silverbolt replied in his massive transport alt mode, refusing to transform knowing that he would tower over the trees.

"Good, I've got one injured human and three spark tired bots for transport." Ratchet looked up to the two aerials, the top ranked fliers of the Aerialbot unit. "Get one of your mechs to take this human to these coordinates." Ratchet pinged Silverbolt a data packet containing coordinates. Immediately Fireflight descended, landing in the tight space between Skydive and Ratchet.

The medic reached to the space below his knee, lying just on top the ground. With a gentleness that belied their kinds' metallic origins and massive size, he scooped up the wooden stretcher carrying a slightly scorched and battered Christmas. "He is a brave human, take him to the human air plane carefully. The other's will take a while to get there, so lie him under the plane."

"Sir," Fireflight acknowledged, lifting off smoothly and vanishing into the sky. Once the smaller plane and human were gone, Silverbolt opened his loading hatch. Slowly, resignedly, Sunstreaker loaded into Silverbolt's storage compartment.

"Ratchet, load up," Sideswipe spoke lowly, his frame shifting from red and black to solid silver. "It's time to go back to work."

"I know." Ratchet sighed, shifting down into his alt-mode, frame shifting from the red, white and black Solaris to his normal electric green hummer fire ambulance mode. He rolled up the ramp, then into Silverbolt's bay. Behind him,, Sideswipe followed closely, rolling in in his preferred silver Corvette Stingray form.

"Ratchet?" Sideswipe asked worriedly.

"We need to be back before Prime. China did not go well." Ratchet sighed then cast his sensors on Sunstreaker. "You will be called upon once more, Sunstreaker."

"My assignment is waiting." Sunstreaker spoke dimly, "there are some things neither man nor mech should have to see, let alone do. I don't want to go back."

"We know," Ratchet replied as they took off, "It can only get worse before it gets better."

"Will it?" Sunstreaker asked softly, "Will it ever get better?"

************************************************

The boat was silent, it had been throughout the long night and through the morning. Evening found the five men hunkered low in their boat, bodies tired and hearts sick. Christmas had been a friend, someone they each could compete against, share a laugh with. The man rarely let their lives destroy him, now he was gone.

"That is one ugly plane." Caesar broke the silence.

"It's worse on the inside." Ross replied flatly.

Gunnar looked over the small outcrop rising from the ocean. Bright blue eyes stared through the late afternoon sun glinting off the metal and waves. Something was off, something beneath the plane. "We're not alone."

"What took you so long?" Christmas's voice echoed from the atoll, making everyone look up in unison.

"Man, how are you breathing?" Caesar roared, long face now splitting with an overjoyed grin – though no one would say anything out loud.

"Breathing?" Christmas asked as the boat pulled in, he helped to pull it onto the small island, showing several patches of bad burns, long cuts and a new gash along the side of his perfectly round, bald dome. "I got an express flight from an F-16 with Attention Deficit Disorder. Now tell me, how does a machine have ADD?" Eyes wide, incredulity and dismay etched into his face Christmas faced his companions who all looked at him with grim faces and wide eyes.

Until they cracked up, cackling. "You met – you met a – a Cybertronian, with ADD?" Caesar cackled, laughing until he was crying, bent over double, unable to breathe and still laughing harder every time he looked at Christmas's dumbfounded expression.

Still laughing, the guys loaded up, and lifted off. Gunnar, Caesar, Yang and Road collapsed on long benches lining the transport aircraft's cargo area. In the front, Ross flew and Christmas to his familiar position as co-pilot. "Over there." Christmas pointed, his voice pulling everyone to the front of the plane. Before them flew five aircraft, three fighters, one stealth and a cargo transport, with the smallest fighter veering off course with one of the other fighters swooping to guide him back into formation.

"Was that your ride?" Gunnar asked looking at the dizzying display with a grin.

"Yes!" Christmas threw his hands in the air, "Imagine coming awake mid-flight in that thing. It was a nightmare." He turned to Ross with a scowl and jerked his thumb over his shoulder to the fading fliers heading off into the distance, "That is why you always ask about the job."

Ross pursed his lips and nodded, the pensive expression turning into a grin as he held his fist up, the god-awful lucky ring still on his hand. "You got it." With cold beers in hand the crew swapped stories that only got bigger and called each other names that had them dissolving into companionable laughter as they raced the sun to the western horizon and home.

"Hey, what happened to your plane?" Christmas asked halfway over the Atlantic, thinking of the nice looking black single-prop that had served them well the past few years.

Ross looked up, eyes wide, then glanced to the diminishing fuel gauge. "Oops."

 

The End


End file.
